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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28522458">drop by drop</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverendingdream/pseuds/neverendingdream'>neverendingdream</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wannabe Challenge (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Hope and new Beginnings, Introspection, New Years, Pre-Relationship, Rainy Days, aka all of my favorite things, poetry quotes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:35:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28522458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverendingdream/pseuds/neverendingdream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He joins her at the windowsill, turns his eyes to the sky, and for a moment, they watch the rain fall in silence, watch drops trace their way down the window’s glass.</p><p>“You were frowning,” he says at last. “Can I...ask why?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kang Biho/Main Character (Wannabe Challenge)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>drop by drop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title and biho's quote from mahmoud darwish’s <i>i used to love winter</i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a rainy January first that finds her staring out the window at the grey sky. The clouds are not quite dark enough, the drops not quite heavy enough to be called a storm, but still, she can’t help but let it dampen her mood.</p><p><em> Good thing the photoshoot’s not until Monday, </em> she thinks, trying to keep herself positive. <em>A</em><em>t least i won’t have to walk in the rain— but, gosh, why does it have to be so dreary the first day of the new year? </em></p><p><em> Maybe it’s a sign, </em> some nasty thing deep in her mind whispers, <em> maybe your happiness, your luck, your bonds and friendships— they weren’t ever meant to last. </em></p><p>
  <em> Maybe you’ll always be unlucky. maybe this is what you deserve. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“MC,” comes Biho’s voice from over her shoulder, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”</p><p>She turns and tries to muster a smile, to smooth the worried furrow between his brows if for nothing else.</p><p>“Biho! I didn’t see you there! It’s nothing— just thinking about silly things. I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>He joins her at the windowsill, turns his eyes to the sky, and for a moment, they watch the rain fall in silence, watch drops trace their way down the window’s glass.</p><p>“You were frowning,” he says at last. “Can I...ask why?”</p><p>She bites her lip and fights the urge to curl her fingernails into her palm to form nervous, painful fists. Even after knowing the goblins for months, knowing <em> him </em> for months, when it comes to questions like these, when it comes to others’ concern for her, she can’t help but instinctively want to deflect or defend.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”</p><p>He keeps his gaze on the rain, but his voice is quiet and gentle, his words somehow more intimate than any eye contact would be with anyone else.</p><p>“I—” he starts, then stops. Glances quickly at her, then away. “There’s a quote from a poem I read once, about the rain. I... like it a lot. Would you like to hear it?”</p><p>In the overcast grey light of the sky, it’s hard to tell if he’s blushing or not. She smiles. This time, the expression feels more true.</p><p>“I’d love to hear it.”</p><p>He smiles back. Pauses for a moment as the rush of rain outside swells, then clears his throat, and starts.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Rain, rain, </em> ” he recites, voice soft, eyes half-closed. <em> “Like a love letter, pours licentiously from the imprudent heavens.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Winter was not lament pointing to the end of life. It was the beginning. It was hope.” </em>
</p><p>“I... don’t know what you’re thinking,” he continues. “I don’t know if it’s a burden I can share. but I— I want to, if you’ll let me.”</p><p>“Biho,” she starts. “<em>B</em><em>iho </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“MC,” he replies, finally turns her way, and meets her eyes. In the dim light, his ocean-blue gaze’s colored the same grey as the sky, but still, it’s steady, gentle, and warm on hers. “The old year’s over, but some things aren’t limited to calender pages. They... they last.”</p><p>His voice drops.</p><p>“They stay,” he says, almost in a whisper, half to himself. “They’ll wait. They always will.”</p><p>“Or, that’s what I like to think new years are about. The end of some things. A new beginning for others. The rain washes away the old year, nourishes the seeds of the future. It’s a celebration of things we’ve found in the old year that’ll carry into the next. Things that won’t vanish or leave.”</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t need to ask, <em> things like what? </em></p><p>Some messages don’t need words. And for this question, her heart already knows the answer.</p><p>“Then those things,” she says, carefully, hopefully, “Are worth staying for. Worth waiting for. Worth celebrating.”</p><p><em> ‘Worth loving,’ </em> she thinks, but doesn’t say. She knows his heart hears hers.</p><p> </p><p>She reaches for his hand. He weaves his fingers through hers, and holds it tight.</p><p>His palm’s warm. Under her fingertips, she can feel his pulse flutter. She fancies his heart’s beating in time with the falling rain, beating in time with hers. The storm continues, drops steady, drops gentle, watering the new year’s wishes and dreams, with the hope they’ll bloom come spring.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes it's set on jan. 1 and it's now it's like over week later ailkfjds  but let's pretend it still works :&gt;</p></blockquote></div></div>
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